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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24292372">An Indigenous  Flower</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/ZetaBerry02/pseuds/ZetaBerry02'>ZetaBerry02</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Assassin's Creed - All Media Types</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Eventual Sex, Eventual Smut, F/M, Fluff and Humor, Heavy Angst, Mohican Native, Native American Character(s), Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Period-Typical Racism, Romance, Slow Burn, Violence</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-05-20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-05-20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 01:14:32</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,814</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24292372</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/ZetaBerry02/pseuds/ZetaBerry02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>“You will die!”<br/>Connor ripped his hood down as he tried to reason with the woman who lifted herself on her-their horse.<br/>“No Connor, it is my people who will die if I do not save them.”<br/>Both Natives looked at one another solemnly as tears threatened to tear them apart. </p><p>We know of a Native woman who married Connor, but we do not know who the woman really is. This is my imagination of who the woman he came to love really is.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Ratonhnhaké:ton | Connor/Original Female Character(s)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>11</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>An Indigenous  Flower</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1">
  <strong>
    <span class="s1">Chapter 1: The Untamed</span>
  </strong>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">Every foul smell you could think of was acquainted with the bitter cold that bit at the Mohican woman’s skin. Her knees were sunken so deep in the snow to the point it felt as if needles were the ones responsible for pinning her down.</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">The white man sneered down at her expecting for her to make a final attempt of bravery as the rest of her small war party were shot to death and the blood of their sacrifice tainted the thick sheet of snow.</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">Ironic it was, as the two colors that formed life and death mixed perfectly in the earth’s ground. Nevertheless the woman’s heart never stopped beating against her rib cage as she watched the regular marking his way down to her.</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">The dance among the fire prior to their attack filled her with so much power. The ground beneath her shook with every step she took. It had never occurred to her that they would be ambushed from every corner. When saliva touched the pale mans hand she could only grin as the hard metal from their musket slammed into the back of her head.</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">Her face squished into the ground as the man laid his heavy boot at the base of her neck. She took it as gratitude for temporarily escaping the horrid scene that was being unfolded in front of her. </span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">The action caused her tribal men to stir and yell out in distress and anger. She could hear the raw emotion that coarse through their veins.</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">The woman faintly wondered if her parents had to come to their demise in the same cruel fate that she was now being faced with. Her gut wrenched as she heard the British resort to beating the men to death. </span>
</p><p class="p2">“May they find the right way to live in their next lives.” She could hear the British yell.</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">The woman’s neck whipped upwards, the pain of her hair being pulled did little to shake her out of the coma her body was in.</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">The sickening smell of the soldier that held her in such a degrading way came into contact as his lips lightly brushed her ear, “Such a shame their women have to fuck such creatures.”</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">The Mohican eyed the raven that perched itself on a tree so high she could’ve imagined it. Envy filling her core at wanting to have the ability to flee as it did. How it watched from the sky above, how it stayed in the darkness.</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">At her dull reaction the man grew bored of the woman and unattached the blade from his musket. For a brief moment the woman caught a glance at herself through the blade. How wild she looked, how the war paint ran down her face in result of the snow she was shoved into.</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">The face that her creator had given her. The face that vowed to take back their homeland. The face that was a Mohican.</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">The raven that watched above stretched out its wings and flew away from the scene. An opportunity that would never come about for the woman who cried out for her home. Her flesh on her palms welcomed the blood from within as she clamped onto the blade and drove it into the man behind hers face.</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">The war cries of her men were ignited with a new light as they watched the woman drive the white mans own blade into his skull. Quickly grabbing onto the mans musket she aimed and pressed hard on the trigger. Her small body being bolted back by the release.</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">The woman’s vision grew foggy as she maintained a tunnel vision on every man she saw that bore a red coat. Her cut lips reaching her eyes as she released her emotions that could be heard throughout the outskirts of their New York.</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2"> “Nagadàn!” </span>
  <em>
    <span class="s3">Leave</span>
  </em>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">The long barrel weapon she swapped with was gripped with both hands as she held it tightly to the soldiers throat that pitifully found himself entrapped between her limbs. Sweat soaked her face and her hair stuck to her own neck.</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">She killed and moved on to the next to bide what remained of the war party to flee. The eyes that belonged to the Native woman only darkened as she looked up from embedding a stray knife into the heart of an unexpected young man.</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">There sat a man who held his head high on his white horse. His expression of mixed delight. No doubt the man was of high status. </span>
  <em>
    <span class="s3">Do not hesitate</span>
  </em>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">Reaching for a gunstock club from one of her befallen she charged at him. She would take their leader down with her. Thefrustration of the snow only added fuel to the flame that enraged her. The cold that nipped at her skin paralyzed any feelings of fear.</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">It was for only a moment that their eyes interlocked before he disappeared behind the wall of flames that made her eyes widen at the sudden shift of light. The heat licked at her skin for a brief moment before she recollected herself.</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">The club hang loosely wedged between her nimble fingers as time seemed to stop. Shifting her weight she frantically eyed the ongoing battle. Relief flooded through her veins as she realized they would soon claim victory over the terrified red coats.</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">However she knew an act of abandonment would be a crime within her village. An act of cowardice. A crime that the woman was more than willing to make.</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">The club was held in a deathly grip of a woman who no longer a-bid by the rules of her people. She would kill and kill until her hands became tainted with every redcoat she swore to see.</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">Her legs wanted to give out as they repeatedly sunk through the knee high snow. A feat that she would not falter to. Her heart pumped at an exhilarating rate that almost felt inhumane.Her lungs burned from the smoke as she breathed through her mouth.</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">Once she finally reached the road the man and his men were already from arms reach. To the point where one had to squint to even notice them. Still the woman fought on as she ran. The blood from her hands weeping onto the floor.</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">The woman screamed continuously until her throat felt raw. All to attract the attention of the men who fled the crimes they committed. The crimes they committed on her people, her entire existence. Who were they to invade the land of those who live on it and claim it as property?</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">Tears involuntarily seeped from her eyes. The adrenaline from the fight slowly began to run out, pain replacing its place. Her head began to swirl as she loss the sense of direction.</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">A whimper like battle cry erupted through her broken lips. The wilderness grew eerie as the raven was now placed with an owl that focused on the distressed woman.</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">The night was not friendly to her, the light from the moon was at its lowest. Enshrouding her in the complete darkness that she earlier craved for.</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">Her pupils accustomed to the dark and her breathing slowly came down to normal. She had no idea as to what injuries she had all over her body. The thought that she could die any second was not lost to the Mohican woman.</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">Yet as she heard footsteps come marching behind her she knew dying would no longer be a mistake for her. No, dying without standing her ground would be a mistake.</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">Idly turning around the woman pointed the gunstock club at the opposing party. Emotions glazed over her eyes as she held her head up proudly. The owl watching curiously and silently at the encounter below it’s talons.</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">“Even though you may not be a white man who bears the red coat, I will not hesitate to kill you should the option present itself.”</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">The death grip on the club grew tighter and her hold on it never faltered. Even as the tall man approached her so. His white hood cascaded down his face. His head tilted upwards as if mocking her. Yet his eyes felt like a dagger that pierced somewhere deeper than her heart. As if it was unworldly.</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">It was then as the moonlight lit up his features that she realized he was indeed not a white man. As if on cue the man finally spoke, “Than it is a good thing that I am not a white man.”</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">Indeed he did not look the part, yet his clothing looked both unfamiliar yet familiar. She felt underdressed as their clothing contrasted from one another.</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">He eyed the war paint that smudged against her face and the blood that splattered itself on her clothing and skin. The origin of it not known to him.</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">The way his eyes roamed on her did not do him justice as the Mohican woman grew defensive against his stares. She moved the club an inch further to catch his attention to which it did.</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">“Since you are not white man than I have no quarrel to you.”</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">She dared inches closer to him and brought the end of the club to his chest, “Yet if you get in my way </span>
  <span class="s3">tribesman </span>
  <span class="s2">I will not hesitate to kill you either.”</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">Her body jolted as the man gripped onto the club, dangerously close to the blade that was carved in. While his free hand gently lowered the hood that hid his face. </span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">“Let me help you with your revenge.”</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">The woman pulled back the weapon relentlessly. Aiming it instead to the ground, a show of peace on her behalf. She could not trust the man who stood in her path, but she could be reassured that he no longer pose as a threat.</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">“Take me to where it is you reside.”</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">The owl took off in a silent flight as the Native man whistled for his horse. Dark eyes looked beyond the man as the sound of hooves came approaching. The brown body of the horse was bathed in the moonlights rays. It’s mane and tail braided tightly.</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">“I can smell the blood that is on you, and see the way your body yearns for rest.”</span>
</p><p class="p2">The man beckoned for her to come upon the horse, “Bare with it a little while longer.”</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">The woman did as she was told and lifted herself on the horse, denying the gestures he made to help her. She held the club to her chest as she felt him brush his chest against her briefly to adjust himself and the reigns in front of them.</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">As soon as the horse started moving the woman could feel herself drift off. She’s put on an ferocious facade for too long tonight. Landing herself on a shared horse with an unknown native man.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>If you’re reading this note, than know that I am deeply in gratitude for you actually taking the time to do so. I have a lot of love for Connor and the Assassin  Creed’s fandom, this is my contribute to it. Feel free to leave any comments or criticisms below and as always, enjoy!</p></blockquote></div></div>
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